


The Snowball Effect

by PressingInk (AlmightyLocket)



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4134648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlmightyLocket/pseuds/PressingInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who knew that one little white lie--something so small could get bigger and bigger to the point of where you are living a complete lie? Minho didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have officially moved here from AFF, so if this story seems similar that is why. :] This story is already more than halfway done so I am finally uploading it onto here instead of my AFF.

**T** he six year old leaned back against his seat as he listened to his father talk to him from the front. Minho didn’t pay attention much to the man since he basically knew everything his father was telling him. Instead of listening to his father coach him on the game he just played, Minho focused on the small string that was dangling from the bottom of his jersey. He rolled the royal blue string around his finger, watching as the tip of his finger became purple. His lips curved gently as he quickly unwound the string, feeling his blood rush back into circulation.

Minho always complained to his father about the strings that would be found hanging at the bottom of his number one jersey and every time his father would cut it off with a pair of scissors another one would appear the next day. The six year old would often give his father a look and ask if he should really just be snipping it away. However, it was his father’s retorts of “What’s a little string going to do to you?” that had Minho becoming quiet because his father didn’t understand how strings were so distracting.

“We’re home,” his father stated the obvious as he pulled up into the round driveway and parked the car. He rested his hand on the shoulder of the passenger seat as he looked back at his large-eyed son. “Do you understand?” he questioned.

His voice was firm and all Minho could do was nod as he stated what his father wanted. “Don’t path the ball tho much to Jonghyun,” he mumbled as his words came out slightly slurred since he couldn’t speak too well—something he was still going to a therapist for. His voice had been small when his father, his coach, wanted him to keep the ball to himself instead of sharing it with his best friend. The dark brown haired child hardly understood why his father didn’t want him to pass the ball to Jonghyun. They were both on the same soccer team, but Minho knew it had to deal with the talks his father had with his mother about scholarships because his and his best friend’s name popped up frequently during that time. “Can I go inthide now…?” he asked his father as he looked at the man with pleading eyes.

Minho quickly wiggled himself out of the booster seat he was in before climbing out of the van. His lips instantly curved to show a bright smile that exposed the few missing teeth when the front door to the baby blue, two story house opened to reveal his mother. “Mommy!” he exclaimed as he ran up to his mom who kneeled with open arms. Minho grinned more as his small hands grabbed onto the sleeves of his mother’s shirt while he bounced in the older woman’s arms. “We won!” he said excitedly.

“Oh?” His mother chuckled as she picked up the small boy, keeping her arms firmly around him so he wouldn’t fall as he flailed his arms around while trying to tell the story. “Did you make the winning goal?”

Minho scrunched his nose lightly when his mother kissed his forehead. He didn’t like kisses when he was trying to tell people things. He shook his head quickly before shouting that his best friend had made the goal by kicking the ball really hard. His mother smiled at him, saying how proud she was and Minho laughed lightly, nearly letting out small giggles when finally being complimented.

It wasn’t until his father came up to them and patted him on the head that Minho’s laughs decreased. “But he’ll make the winning goal in the next game… right?” his father said while glancing at the small boy in the woman’s arms.

Minho could only nod, knowing that his father would be angry at him if he didn’t agree. 

He let out a small whine when his mother put him down, but smiled when the woman ran her fingers through his hair then patted him on the head. “Go inside and change. Mommy and daddy are going to talk.” His mother gently turned him around by his small shoulder and patted him on his behind to make him go inside.

Minho was hesitant, but decided to follow his mother’s orders anyway. He walked into the house, his short fingers holding onto the silver doorknob as he closed the door behind him. He kneeled down as he untied his shoes first since they were dirty and he didn’t want to muddy the floor knowing the stern look his mother would give him for it.

He walked down the small entrance hallway that led to the living room. His lips curved up when he saw his half-sister sitting on the couch. He ran over and hopped onto the white cushioned sofa, grinning. “Hi Minjung! Where ith Mintheok?” he asked curiously since the twins were never really apart.

“With my father,” the thirteen year old girl said as she never took her eyes off the screen of the television. “I didn’t go because I have a recital tomorrow and dad lives too far.”

Minho nodded his head gently understanding what his sister meant. The six year old knew how his sister loved to dance. The young boy hadn’t gotten to see one of her performances yet since his father found dancing to be something useless and didn’t want to take him to one, but he hoped to see it one day.

He glanced over at the screen wondering what his sister was distracted by. His round eyes widened even more as he stared at the screen, watching intensely—almost as if being hypnotized by the moving picture. He watched as a male came out with his head held high and his back straight while walking down the long stage. Minho’s large eyes caught every stop and pause, the toss of the jacket over one shoulder, and every ounce of confidence that oozed from the male’s stance.

The man’s clothes were clean and classier looking than the suit his father would wear on the award nights of his athletic teams. Even though the male’s clothing was somewhat of a suit, Minho couldn’t help but think that the male could wear it out on a daily bases, like his first grade teacher would. 

What was even better to the six year old was the shirt the man wore—no strings seemed to be dangling from the hem of his shirt.

“I want to be like him,” Minho said softly, more to himself than to his sibling sitting next to him.

“You want to be a model?”

Minho thought about the word before looking over at his sister, giving her a big toothless smile. “Mhm!” He looked back at the screen with excited eyes. The light in his eyes quickly vanished when the screen flickered and the hypnotizing channel was replaced with something he was forced to do every day.

“What the heck?” he heard his sister nearly growl.

He glanced over and noticed his father holding the remote. Minho frowned gently but didn’t say anything as his sister and father started to argue over ‘girly crap that wasn’t as important as the soccer game that was currently playing’. The six year old faced back toward the screen, bringing his knees up to his chest while wrapping his arms around them. He pressed his chin against his knees as he stared blankly at the television set and instead stayed in his imagination where he was walking down the long stage instead of the man.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew that one little white lie--something so small could get bigger and bigger to the point of where you are living a complete lie? Minho didn't.

**M** inho leaned against the wall with crossed arms. His fingers tapped in a one-two-three pattern against the material of the sleeves of the gray cardigan sweater that covered his biceps as he waited for his best friend to arrive at the entrance of the school. His large, dark eyes watched as groups of friends walked through the open glass doors, laughing without a care in the world as if the bell hadn’t just rung signaling to them that school was about to begin while others were in more of a hurry—swiftly moving through the crowd of carefree peers.

He thanked the heavens that he was almost done with school. Just a few more months and Minho would have his diploma in his hands and he wouldn’t have to come back to the overcrowded school that seemed to be obtaining more bodies than it sent off into the real world. The eighteen year old couldn’t wait for that day.

Minho’s lips curved gently while letting out light chuckles when noticing a figure running through the parking lot like a headless chicken. He shook his head as he pushed himself off the wall when his best friend finally reached him. He raised an eyebrow as he stared at Jonghyun who was a panting mess; bent over slightly with his hands on his knees.

“…Were you running from something?” he asked teasingly when their eyes finally met. Noticing the confused look in his friend’s eyes, Minho started to run around in a circle flailing his arms around while trying to mimic the way Jonghyun had run over to him which earned him a hard whack on his behind.

“I did not look like that!” Jonghyun yelled when he finally regained his breath.

The taller had to admit, maybe he had over exaggerated just a bit with the way he had moved his arms frantically, but that didn’t mean that Jonghyun had to whack his ass that hard. He rubbed his denim covered bottom wondering if Jonghyun’s hand hurt as much as his ass did. “I’m going to get you for that,” he grumbled before swiftly locking the shorter brunette in a headlock and rubbing his fist against his head, giving him a nuggie.

“Stop! Minho!” Jonghyun yelled as he flailed his arms trying to push the taller male away from him, but Minho stood his ground and didn’t falter with each shove the elder gave. He only snickered before letting go of Jonghyun—the soft noises becoming louder as his friend glared at him while fixing the disheveled brown strands that stood in multiple directions. “Asshole,” he cursed as he pinched Minho’s side lightly. The usually offensive word was spoken more as an endearment when said between the two lifelong friends.

“Why were you late this morning? Did something happen between your parents again?” Minho asked while walking into the school—showing his concern now that their small little play session was over. He hardly paid attention to the next round of chimes, signaling that there was only five minutes left to get to class and yet the halls were still crowded with students laughing and talking by the doors.

“Nah,” Jonghyun said as he moved his bag over to his other shoulder. “I didn’t set my alarm clock the night before and woke up late. Besides, if my parents were fighting, do you really think that I would even care enough to stay back and stop them? They have a fight over everything. They even had a freaking fight about which cereal to buy the other day.” The older of the two waved his hands as he talked, looking up at his best friend with a ‘can you believe that’ expression. “ _Cereal._ They had a full blown out fight about cereal. Couldn’t they have just gotten both? _Oh no._ God forbid you spend two dollars and nineteen cents more—”

Minho would be lying if he said he wasn’t amused every time his best friend started to rant to him about his parents. Others would have gotten annoyed by maybe the fifth or sixth time, but even after thirteen years Minho still wasn’t annoyed by it. Jonghyun’s parents were definitely something.

“—they should just get a divorce already.”

“You are the only person I know who is actually rooting for their parents to separate,” Minho pointed out, the smile still on his lips while doing so.

“Minho, you know for a fact that my parents do not love each other anymore. They haven’t even slept in the same room for three years, almost four.” The two seniors slowed their walk as they neared the taller one’s first classroom.

_“-hank you. And have a great day.”_

Minho furrowed his eyebrows as he caught the last part of the intercom. He let out a small sigh while shaking his head. “They need to learn that we can’t hear them when we’re all going to class. This is why I never know what’s going on in the school,” he stated as he gently nudged Jonghyun with his elbow before walking into his class. “See you at lunch, Dino Face!”

“Sure, Frog Eyes!”

Minho rolled his eyes when the elder’s voice reached his ears as he walked to his seat. His lips curved downward when noticing the female sitting next to his spot. The Fashion Marketing classroom consisted of desk-like tables that were seated for two. Usually the tall brunette would have his own desk unless _she_ would sit next to him. Minho hated when she did since the only reason she was there was to flirt with him and Minho liked to focus on his work, especially in this class since it was his favorite.

“Sulli,” he mumbled a greeting as he slid into his seat and placed his bag on the top spot of the desk in front of him. He sighed tiredly and looked over at the sweet girl who never seemed to take a hint—or ignored it. “I don’t really have time to chat today. I need to finish my project so if all you want to do is talk, I would prefer it if you sat with your friend.” It may have sounded rude, but this wasn’t the first time he had to tell Sulli that he wanted to focus on his school work instead of chatting. Minho had lost count after the number increased to a fair amount that his fingers didn’t want to count.

“I know,” Sulli stated as she smiled what seemed to be a shy—or maybe nervous—smile in Minho’s eyes. “But I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime this weekend?”

Minho pressed his lips together as he looked at her. It wasn’t that Sulli wasn’t good-looking because she was. She was _very_ pretty and the cute outfits she wore to school really made her sweet image shine through, but Minho had zero interest. Whether it be a girl or boy (Minho has thought about it), he just couldn’t see himself dating, kissing, or being intimate with someone. Just the thought of it caused the hairs on his arms to raise and his nose to scrunch lightly. “Sorry Sulli, but I’m just not interested.” The words came out quick, like pulling a band aid off in one swift motion. Minho wasn’t one to really beat around the bush. He didn’t like lying or stretching the truth. He didn’t want to give the girl false hope since it would only cause them both trouble in the end.

He heard the small utter of goodbye as he unzipped his back pack. His lips parted slightly to let out a small breath of relief when the girl had finally left him alone. He took out his notebook with all his notes and details on his project before grabbing two different colored pens from the front pocket. He pushed his bag over to the empty side of the table. Flipping passed the cover and pages full of notes, Minho started to make a quick sketch of the display stand he was supposed to “make” (a poster) in order to get “customers” (his peers) to “buy” with slips of paper that had a poorly drawn money sign on it. Even though it wasn’t the most ideal project, Minho was happy nonetheless to do it as best as he could since it was the only class in the school that was as close to modeling as he was going to get.

 

●

Minho brought his knee up to his chest, his foot staying on the edge of the bench in the locker room as he tied the laces of his shoes. He yanked at the blue laces with great strength until he felt his foot feel snugged in the shoe. He quickly tied it, trying to make sure the shoe was still tight when he finished tying the strings. He nodded to his teammates that patted him on the back, telling him that they would be on the field. Minho didn’t really care, but being the captain of the team and the coach’s son, his teammates liked to tell him where they were at all times. It annoyed him.

The tall athlete just shook his head gently before tying his other shoe. The only teammate he hadn’t seen yet was his best friend. _Where is he?_ Minho thought to himself as he stood from the bench. As if his question was heard, the short brunette came running into the locker room with a huge smile and Minho raised his eyebrow. His father would have wanted him to confront Jonghyun about being late, but he couldn’t care less. “What happened to you? I haven’t seen you this happy since you found out you weren’t going to have to take biology again,” he chuckled at the memory of Jonghyun hugging their stern science teacher when the old man had given him a passing grade.

“Guess what?” his best friend exclaimed as he kept his arms behind his back, obviously hiding something there. He continued without even giving Minho a chance to guess. “Those announcements that we could never hear in the fucking morning actually has some important information!” Jonghyun’s eyes were slightly wider than normal, almost in amazement at his own words—like he couldn’t believe it. “Look at what I have!” He moved his arms revealing two pieces of paper in his hands.

Minho squinted his eyes as he examined the paper from where he was standing. “A fieldtrip form?” he questioned.

“Not just any fieldtrip form!” Jonghyun moved closer to the taller and held out the pieces of paper, slapping it with his hand gently. “Look at where it’s at!”

The younger pressed his lips together as he searched the form for the destination. His eyes slowly widened when seeing the location. Four Seasons University, it was one of the most popular colleges that had one of the best art departments. There had been many famous models and fashion designers that had gone to the university. It had been Minho’s dream university to go to if it was not for his father that insisted that he go to Bound University. He wouldn’t pay for anything else and Four Seasons University was so expensive.

Minho stared at the piece of paper desperately wanting to sign up and go, but his father would be a problem. “I can’t, Jong,” he mumbled as he frowned. “My father would never let me…” Minho sighed and pushed Jong’s wrist away—not wanting to make himself depressed over the opportunity he couldn’t take.

The older brunette gave him an exasperated look. “Oh come on!” Jonghyun couldn’t believe what he was hearing from his friend and placed his bag down and opened his locker to change. As he switched into his uniform, Jonghyun tried to somehow persuade his friend whom didn’t even really seem to enjoy soccer anymore. “Why wouldn’t he say yes and sign the damn paper? It’s not like he’s signing you up to actually go to the college, Min. He’s signing to let you go explore and eat free fucking food. Just tell him you wanted to take a day off school and that you wanted a weekend of relaxation. The thing only lasts from Friday to Saturday and we’d be back Saturday afternoon… just in time for soccer practice.”

“I don’t know…” Minho said, still having his doubts.

“What’s the worse that’s going to happen? Him saying no?” Jonghyun raised an eyebrow while giving Minho a look since it wasn’t like his father would kill him for just asking.

Minho took in a breath of air before letting it go with a soft sigh of defeat. “Fine,” he gave in. “I’ll at the very least just ask him to go.” His lips twitched slightly, unable to stop the smile that stretched across his lips when his friend fist pumped the air while doing a little dance. “Just give me the form after practice.”

“Will do,” Jonghyun sang.

“Now let’s get to the field before my father kills us both.”

 

●

He moved the green Brussels sprouts around his near empty plate. The food didn’t taste as good as it could have since his mother had to heat it in the microwave thanks to his father wanting to extend practice. The only thing that made it pleasant for the teen was the fact that his father had to eat the pre-heated food as well. Minho knew that he needed to bring up the trip while they were eating since his father would leave to his room after to relax and then sleep. He just didn’t know when would be a good time to ask. He was nervous to hear what his father would say.

Minho glanced at the papers on the table, his little sister—still in her volleyball uniform—was scribbling on what seemed to be her homework. Since it was only him and his father eating, Minjee had enough space to litter her papers on the middle of the table. His eight year old sister would definitely be the death of him since the young girl seemed to despise him so much. It wasn’t like Minho wanted the attention his father gives him. He would have gladly handed it over to Minjee if he could.

“Are you going to come to my volleyball game tomorrow, Daddy?” the child asked as she looked up at their father with pleading eyes.

“Sorry, Pumpkin, but Minho and I have soccer practice tomorrow at the same time as your game.”

Minho sighed inwardly when his father said his name. He hated when his name was thrown into it. His father was the coach; there was no need for _his_ name to be slipped in, especially when Minjee was already jealous enough.

The older sibling frowned when those pleading eyes turned to him, now narrowed—almost as if sending daggers at him. He just rolled his eyes and stabbed one of the Brussels sprouts before popping it into his mouth and eating it. Minho chewed and swallowed the piece while glancing over at his father. He cleared his throat, letting out a small not so pleasant noise that captured the attention of both his father and his sister. “Um… Dad?” Minho poked the last of his food around his plate. “There’s this fieldtrip that’s coming up and I wanted to know if I could go…?”

“A fieldtrip?” his father repeated as one of his eyebrows raised. “Where is the trip to?”

Minho frowned and sighed. He had hoped that his father would just say yes and sign the paper without looking. “To Four Seasons University,” he stated, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hide where the trip was from his father anyways.

He watched as his father’s lips pressed together to form a firm line, obviously not pleased with the name that slipped from his son’s lips. “What?” His father placed his utensils down and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why the hell would you even need to go to that college? You are set with Bound University. Bound University has the best sports education in the nation. You don’t need to visit that school that has sport teams that can’t even rival with high school athletes.”

Minho sighed and ran his fingers through his hair frustratingly. “I know!” he raised his voice when his father continued to bring down the college that he so desperately wanted to go to. “I know… I just… I wanted to take a day off school without it actually counting as a day off and just a day or two to relax. I have no interest in the school,” he lied, his voice a notch higher but quickly cleared his throat. “I just want a day away from stress. Please, father?” The tall brunette pleaded as best as he could and even gave his father a look of desperation.

His father pinched the bridge of his nose while closing his eyes, staying in that position for a moment before letting it go and looking at his son. “Fine. How long is the fieldtrip?”

Minho’s lips curved when his father agreed and felt all the tension in his body that resided there from the wait disappear completely. “Thank you, dad!” He smiled brightly while finishing the last of his food. “Just from Friday to Saturday afternoon, I’ll be back in time for soccer practice.” The smile never fell from his lips as his father nodded and took both their plates to the kitchen.

Hearing his sister let out an exasperated sigh, Minho glanced over and noticed the girl glaring at her homework. “What’s wrong? Do you need help?” he asked as he looked over at her paper.

“My teacher said we had to write about our siblings and that if we didn’t have any to just make one up,” she said as she kept scribbling before stopping once again. “I have no idea what to name my brother.”

Minho’s mouth dropped, gaping at the little monster he had for a sister. “How about _Minho_ since that’s your brother’s name!?” he pointed out in disbelief.

Minjee looked up at her brother, giving the older a bored look before shrugging and looking back down at her paper. “ _Meh_. I’ll name him Jonghyun~”

Minho gave up. He had no idea how his best friend was more liked than he was.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew that one little white lie--something so small could get bigger and bigger to the point of where you are living a complete lie? Minho didn't.

**M** inho looked at the cards in his hands as he pressed his back against the window of the bus, facing Jonghyun. He glanced at all the cards he had, the cards increasing from an ace to a king. Minho liked having them organized so that they would be much easier to find. He pressed his lips together as he waited for his friend’s next call. Even if it was a stupid card game, Minho was competitive as ever when playing card games and desperately wanted to win.

“Do you have a…” Jonghyun paused as he looked at the cards in his hands with pursed lips as if it was really hard to decide which number or letter to choose. “Do you have a four?”

Minho’s lips curved to show a bright smile as Jonghyun cursed under his breath as the words “Go fish” escaped passed the taller male’s pink lips. He watched while Jonghyun huffed as he stuck his hand into the small front pocket of his backpack and pulled out one of the cards from the make believe sea they had created. “Do you have a nine?” he asked curiously as he glanced at his cards before his large eyes flickered back up towards the older. He saw the triumphant grin on Jonghyun’s face and rolled eyes, knowing that he was going to have to pick a card. Minho stuffed his hand into the pocket and felt for a card. He pulled the four of clubs out and stuck it behind his ace and chuckled, knowing Jonghyun wasn’t going to ask him for a four again.

“Do you have a two?” Jonghyun asked hopefully.

Minho could see the brunette’s eyes light up, the dark color almost shining when his fingers brushed against one of the cards in his hands. He didn’t have a two, but that didn’t mean Minho didn’t like messing with his best friend into thinking that he had one. He opened his mouth as he moved his hand away from the card. “Go fish.”

“You bastard.”

Minho tilted his head back as he let out a loud, hardy laugh that cause a few heads to turn on the bus. His laughter came to a sudden stop as the bus’s wheels screeched and his head hit the glass window with a loud _smack_. “Fuck,” Minho cursed as he reached up to rub the small bump that was forming on his head. Hearing the elder’s obnoxious laugh he reached over and whacked his head for revenge for not asking if he was okay.

“Ow,” the elder jutted out his bottom lip as he rubbed his head slightly. “That was mean, Min!” Jonghyun pretended to scold the other though a smile was still placed on his lips

“Whatever,” Minho chuckled softly as he glanced outside the window. His pink lips curved more to show a wide smile as his eyes caught sight of the college that he had so desperately wanted to go to. He felt as though his breath was taken away by just the architectural look of the school that spent most of its money in the art department. “Amazing…” He mumbled more to himself as he felt the cards he was holding onto leave his hands. He glanced over at his best friend, the smile never leaving his lips as he noticed the look Jonghyun was giving him.

“You never know, Min. Maybe this will be your college after graduation.”

The taller shook his head lightly and sighed softly as he rested his forehead against the window of the bus while Jonghyun shoved all of the cards into the front pocket of the backpack. Minho’s eyes captured some of the elegant morals that were painted on one of the sides of the buildings. “I wish…”

●

Minho tapped his pencil against the wooden desk he and Jonghyun were seated at. The fieldtrip had been nothing like he imagined. He had thought of walking through the halls of the art department and watching the fashion students running around frantically like all those Runway shows he had secretly watched growing up. However instead of looking at what he actually wanted to do, Minho was stuck in a college level psychology class with the weirdest teacher he had ever laid his eyes upon.

The old man had a bald spot on the top of his head that reflected the light of the room pretty well, but the tall brunette didn’t really think anything of that. It was the fact that the rest of his hair seemed to match his facial hair perfectly. It was almost like the professor’s hair just wrapped around his face. Minho tried his hardest not to stare at the teacher and side glanced at his best friend. Unlike himself, Jonghyun was openly staring at the man, his mouth parted slightly as he gaped at him like a fish. Minho quickly nudged his shoulder and gave him a look to make him stop.

“—for a process that starts from an initial state of small significance and builds upon itself, becoming larger, and also perhaps potentially dangerous or disastrous. It’s commonly known as the Snowball Effect because a snowball is used as analogy; it rolls down the hill and collects more snow to get bigger and bigger. Fascinating, right?!” the old man yelled with one of the most excited smiles Minho had ever seen on someone and the old man was only talking about snow. Seeing that neither of the high schoolers nor his own students looked as captivated as he was, the professor waved his hand with a sigh and dismissed them.

“That… Has got to be the worst class so far,” Jonghyun said as he held his hand over his mouth to cover himself as he let out a yawn before stretching his arms up and arching his back. “Being a psychologist is definitely off my list~”

Minho furrowed his eyebrows when hearing that and looked over at the other. “Since when was psychologist on the list… In fact, when the heck has there ever been a list?” He snickered as he looked at the elder, a playful smile on his lips.

Jonghyun rolled his eyes and lightly punched Minho’s arm. “It wasn’t on the ‘list’, but if I had a list it would definitely be crossed off after Mr. Hair,” he mumbled.

The taller of the two just shook his head gently and patted the older on the back. “Let’s just go. Is it time for lunch yet? Because I’m starving,” Minho whined softly while rubbing his flat stomach. “I feel like my stomach is eating itself.” 

“We still have one class to go to before we finally get a break so your stomach is going to need to keep clawing for another hour and a half.”

Minho groaned as he stood up from his chair and stretched his arms up above his head, letting out a low deep groan as his back let out a small _crack_. “Nngh…”

“ _Oh~ So sexy~_ ” Jonghyun joked while standing up which earned him a whack over his head. The shorter male let out a small yelp, but the two students still had a wide smile on their lips as they walked out of the classroom and back into the hallways that had way less students roaming the halls than at their high school.

The tall brunette couldn’t help but let out a sigh as he thought about all the classes they had gone to. He glanced over at his best friend while starting to talk to him, “This trip was nothing like I thought it was going to be… I mean. We don’t even have a class in the arts building…”

“You know that this university isn’t only known for its art department, right?” Jonghyun glanced over at the frustrated male. “Four Seasons is also known for its science department which is probably why they gave us all these classes.”

Minho frowned at what the other said, knowing full well that he was right. “But… science classes aren’t going to help me get a taste of what I want for my future. How is knowing constellations and the patterns of sleep supposed to help me get into modeling?”

“I thought you weren’t actually going to get into modeling?” Jonghyun pointed out while raising a thin eyebrow.

“You know that I never mean it when I say that I don’t actually want to go into modeling,” Minho sighed and ran his fingers through his brunette strands, messing up his hair slightly. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up completely. Also, once I tell my dad what I actually want for my future, he’s going to freak out and you know it. He’s going to make it so I can never step a foot off the soccer field ever again.”

“Yeah, I know, but what if your father actually understands?”

“Uh-huh. _Sure_ ,” Minho rolled his eyes as he elongated the word. “He’ll understand once soccer is dead.”

Jonghyun shook his head and quickly grabbed his best friend’s arm, leading him out of the building. “Come on, Frog Eyes. Let’s sneak off into the art building! I’m sure our next class won’t miss us.”

The taller blinked lightly as the shorter pulled him out of the science building before his lips curved upwards. “Really?”

The smile never left his lips as he let the elder drag him into the art building. He couldn’t contain his wide smile as he looked at all the students running around frantically in the building. It seemed as if all the art students were busy with the coffee cups lying around on the window sills and on the floor next to papers with sketches and poster boards that were roughly drawn on. The art students seemed to have been up for hours with all the chaos— _organized chaos_ , Minho added in his head as he noticed one of the students walking by, scratching off a line of their list.

“This is amazing,” Minho’s words came out slowly, amazed with everything that was going on around them.

“Looks like a mess. No wonder they didn’t give us classes he….”

When hearing the trail off of the other’s sentence, the taller glanced back at his dinosaur faced friend whose eyes were on a couple of girls that passed by. “Jonghyun,” Minho hissed at his friend when the older started to follow them. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his best friend. _Idiot_ , he grumbled to himself mentally as he headed down the hallway his friend had gone. He made sure to hop over the posters he came across. The words ‘Art Festival’ popped out at him (mostly since he accidently stepped on them as he tried to hop over three in a row) and he now knew why all the students were running around. The festival was in four months and the whole building seemed to be jotting down their thoughts of what it should look like.

“I wonder if everyone is allowed to go?” he mumbled to himself before glancing around, trying to find Jonghyun to make him ask one of the students. Minho had never been good at conversing with others unless he’s known them for a long time.

He passed by an open door, quickly glancing inside for Jonghyun before moving along. His footsteps came to a slow stop. He quickly backtracked.

Minho’s eyes widened when stepping through the open door. It was almost as if he was in a dream. _His_ dream. He could actually feel his dream of being a model within arm’s reach as he glanced around the studio. He didn’t even notice he was already within the room until his fingertips just gently brushed against the fabric, feeling the fur-like material. His lips twitched up as he smiled. He couldn’t believe he was standing in an actual studio of a designer. His eyes caught the sketches that were scattered across the tabletop, taking in the designs of multi-colored suits and flamboyant articles of clothing that should have never been paired with each other and yet they oddly worked. “Amazing…” he mumbled to himself as he moved over to the other table and saw the cards of different palettes and fabrics. 

His lips curved more, his smile becoming wider as he gently brushed over the small squares of fabrics. He especially loved the touch of the—he squinted his eyes to read the small cursive underneath it—polyester. With that, he decided that satin was definitely his next favorite along with leather. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard voices in the room. He swirled on the balls of his feet and glanced over towards the door where the noises could be heard. His teeth dug into his bottom lip as his eyes widened when he caught sight of the college student walking into the studio room. His heart hammered against his chest at the thought of being caught somewhere he wasn’t allowed to be.  
His lips parted slightly to apologize as soon as his eyes met the dark haired man’s almond shaped ones, but the other beat him.

“Ahh… You must be Kim Sungwoo!”

Minho’s mouth just opened and closed, trying to form the words to tell the older male that he wasn’t Kim Sungwoo, but found himself losing the chance to and cursed at himself inwardly for letting the moment pass.

“Nicole was telling me that you most likely wouldn’t show up, but I am so glad that you did!” The raven-haired man let out a sigh of relief as he placed his bags on a clear spot on the table. “I’m Kim Kibum, by the way. It’s nice to meet you. _You_ are a life saver. My last model quit on me at the last second and I couldn’t fucking believe it. I mean, I spent 5 months coming up with sketches and starting the fucking project and then he didn’t have the decency to tell me that he wouldn’t be able to do it. He kept his mouth shut for 3 months until he finally found it in that stupid heart of his to tell me. Now I only have four months to come up with new sketches and a whole new concept since I like the concept to match my model well and… you’re a little too tan for that old concept.” Kibum scrunched his nose slightly while looking at the male up and down.

Minho didn’t know what to do, but he couldn’t help feeling a bit self-conscious when the older was observing him. He was nothing like the other male. The ebony haired man was obviously fashionable, something that Minho had been trying to do with his wardrobe secretly without his father noticing too much. It was like the man had stepped out of a magazine in his pink Ralph Lauren (yeah, Minho was a fan) sweater and his fair skin. Minho had a feeling the older would have a heart attack if he ever saw him without his shirt on. Sure his tan looked good with his clothes on, but when he took his long-sleeved shirts off it was a completely different story. Farmer tans were never _in_. “I… I’m sorry?” he questioned what he should have said. Minho had never thought in a million years that someone would actually call him a model. The taller was just waiting for that nudge that would wake him up.

“You don’t need to apologize…” Kibum’s words wavered off as if he was in thought. “Nicole said you were more snarky, but you seem really shy.” The older just waved his hand as if swatting the thought away before going through his bag. “And you’re taller than what she said, but I’ll count it as a blessing that she was never good with telling height.” The dark haired man’s full lips curved upward to show a grin as he pulled out a pink folder. He pushed his bag over a bit on the table before moving to sit on the cleared spot. “Come over here.”

Minho slowly walked over to the older male that he had just met. He had no idea what he was doing. He really should have told him that he wasn’t Kim Sung-whatever. However, Minho’s voice didn’t seem to be connected to his mouth any longer and all he could do was stare at the pink folder that was now being read to him. A contract. A contract that Kibum had made for Sungwoo to sign in order to make sure he wouldn’t (nor couldn’t) bail out on him at any time.

Minho had no idea how the pen had gotten into his hand.

●

Minho was nearly pulling his strands out of his head when he finally found his best friend waiting for him outside of the building. The taller had sent a bunch of texts to Jonghyun and finally after almost twenty messages later the older man had finally replied to him to meet him in front of the west entrance.

As soon as Minho reached him with a copy of the contract in his hand, he blurted out, “I did something horrible.”


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew that one little white lie--something so small could get bigger and bigger to the point of where you are living a complete lie? Minho didn't.

**M** inho sighed as he leaned back against the wall. He wrapped his lips around the blue silly straw that swirled into his cup of root beer as he took a sip. “The water feels nice at least,” he said as he tried to make the situation better even though the argument could still be heard through the thin walls.

His legs were draped over the rim of the tub, his blue swim trunks peeking out slightly through the bubbles that were already starting to disappear. Jonghyun’s parents were still trying to save money and thought the cheap brand would be just as good as the name brands. They were obviously wrong.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jonghyun mumbled in between sips of his own drink. “I just wish the pool would fucking open already so we wouldn’t have to be here…”

“Hey now…” Minho gently nudged his best friend as he chuckled softly. “I’m sure that it will end soon. Let’s just lean back and enjoy our root beers like we always do these days.” He smiled more when seeing the brunette lean back before taking another sip of his drink. He jumped up slightly when the loud yell reach his ears.

“God dammit,” Jonghyun groaned before yelling so his parents could hear him, “I have a friend over!” He tilted his head back while letting out a low groan. “Just fucking ignore them and let’s get back to why we are actually holding this meeting. What are you going to do about tomorrow, Frog Eyes? You signed the contract—”

“Not really. I had to sign it as Kim Sungwoo…”

“Minho! That is forgery. You could go to jail for that! How could you have acted like you were Kim Sungwoo when you aren’t even him? How could you sign the damn contract? You know better than this!”

Minho bit his bottom lip gently while listening to his best friend scold him. His lips parted slightly to let out a sigh. “Aren’t you the one always telling me to take risks?”

“Not if it means you going to jail, Minho,” Jonghyun said through his gritted teeth. “Why would you even grab the fucking pen?”

Minho closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he thought about it. “I don’t know…”

“You don’t know!?”

“I don’t know!” The taller yelled back, his lids lifting up to glance over at the brunette. “I don’t know… Maybe it was the fact that I was finally given the chance to do what I have always dreamed of doing? Maybe it was the fact that as soon as I had that pen in my hands I finally realized I wasn’t dreaming and that I was finally given the chance to model? Maybe it was the fact that he complimented me and practically said that I was the best model he had so far appearance wise. He thought I was real model material, Jonghyun… and with those words repeating themselves in my head as I held the pen… I signed it…” Minho shrugged after he said that, letting out another soft sigh. “I couldn’t stop myself, Jonghyun. It was my only chance. This is my only chance and if it means maybe getting caught and going to jail, I want to risk it because being on that soccer field is already like a prison to me.”

Silence filled the room as all he said was slowly taken in by his best friend. “So,” Jonghyun said as he smiled at him. “I guess we can tell your father that you are sleeping over at my house so we can use my backyard to practice more?”

Minho let out a breath of relief, a smile stretching across his lips while nodding. “That would be great… We just need to make sure that your parents can… testify for it?”

Jonghyun laughed and nodded. “My dad loves you. He would lie and say you were here every day if it would help you.” 

The taller rolled his eyes and nudged the elder’s shoulder. “Oh please. Your father only loves me because I always pass the ball to you and now you are going to get that big scholarship for sports.”

“Still loves you though.”

They both grinned at each other while chuckling. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before you shrink more,” Minho teased the older as he pulled himself out of the tub, Jonghyun soon following him while huffing.

“I am not short. You’re just abnormally tall,” he grunted before reaching out to grab Minho’s arm, pulling him closer to look at him with a firm expression. “We need to plan out everything, Min. You can’t let him find out you aren’t Sungwoo… You can’t go to jail on me. You’re the only real family I have left….”

Minho felt his heart drop for a moment when hearing Jonghyun’s statement and was ready to call the whole thing off, but he knew that even though Jonghyun’s parents never paid attention to him unless he was on the field (maybe that’s why he loved soccer so much) he still was going to get to do what he had dreamed of. And Minho needed to do the same. “I will be careful,” he promised him while reassuring. “Let’s plan everything out, every detail we can… and everything will go smoothly. I’ll just go there and model for him and that’s it. Nothing bad can happen with that, Jonghyun.”

●

Minho wondered if he could actually remember all that Jonghyun and he had talked about when thinking about whom Sungwoo was and what he could have been doing and what his past was like. It felt as though they had written a character and Minho was never good at memorizing. How was he supposed to make it believable when he couldn’t even get the facts straight in his mind?

At the end of the school day he had secretly tossed the paper with the list of facts into his backpack before giving it to Jonghyun so he could hold onto it for him while instead taking a bag full of clothes and his necessities. He was going to be spending the weekend at Kibum’s studio at the college so they can get everything settled before actually starting.

Minho walked the empty halls of the art building which felt lonelier and colder than it had before since no one seemed to be in the building. What used to have laughter and loud noises of chitchat in his memories of the hallway was now replaced with silence. He took wary steps toward the door that he remembered as Kibum’s studio, wondering if he should just knock or walk in like he had done before.

He raised his fist, his knuckles lightly brushing against the door before he pulled his hand away. He could feel his heart beat a bit faster as he hesitated. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he babbled and blurted out everything to Kibum as soon as he walked in? What if he cracked under the pressure? Minho suddenly found himself wishing for the notebook he had left in his backpack.

“How long had you been standing there? The door was open you know.” 

Minho’s heart nearly stopped when he heard the other’s voice and finally focused on the figure in front of him. He could see the look the older was giving him; the thin raised eyebrow, the piercing gaze, and the firm line of his lips, an expression that seemed as if asking him if he was an idiot. “Uh… I know, but I just didn’t want to interrupt you if you were doing something…?”

“So you were going to stand there in that spot, like an _idiot_ , all night if I hadn’t opened the door…?”

The look the raven haired man had given him only seemed to intensify with each word he had stated and Minho felt himself growing more anxious and embarrassed. He could feel the heat rise to his cheeks as he started to try to defend himself. “I-I just got here! I would have knocked in like two minutes or so!” He sputtered out words nervously continuing on until he noticed that the other’s firm lips were now curved upward into an amused smile.

“Get in,” Kibum said as he rolled his eyes, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he left the door open for him.

His eyes locked on the other’s lips and he wondered if his ears had deceived him. Had Kibum actually laughed and smiled at him normally? When first meeting the other he had seemed so strict and professional when it came to talking to him and he was straight to the point. However, now being stunned with the new side of Kibum that seemed rather playful, he wasn’t sure what to say or do for a moment.

He slowly bowed his head slightly as a silent thank you. Whether it was for letting him in or not bringing up what has just happened — he didn’t know, but he was thankful for it. He followed the raven haired college student into the studio that looked a bit different than it had before. All the tables had been pushed to one corner of the room, while a container, a notebook, and the mouthwatering takeout were located near the other side of the wall. Minho’s eyes were instantly drawn to the food that his father would hardly ever let them get unless they won a big game in the series.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the food. His stomach was literally screaming for it. Whatever Kibum was telling him went through one ear and out the other. He couldn’t stop himself as he quickly pointed to the food in the midst of Kibum’s speech, his large eyes wider than normal as he quickly asked, “Is that food for us?”

Kibum blinked lightly, a little taken back by the sudden exclamation before nodding, a soft chuckle escaping when noticing the childlike look the taller had in his eyes. “Yeah, I thought it would be best to get to know each other over food first. That way it would be less awkward when I ask you to strip.”

The words flowed so casually from the other that Minho had to suck in a breath as he looked at him shocked beyond belief. “E-excuse me?!” He subconsciously held his jacket closer to himself.

“What?” Kibum said as he raised his eyebrow, obviously amused with the model’s reaction. “I need to take your measurements.”

Minho paused for a moment before huffing lightly at the way Kibum played with him – still finding this side of him rather strange in a way since the strict image of him was already vibrantly painted in his mind. He grumbled under his breath as he followed him to the food, seating himself on the floor across from the other. He licked his lips hungrily as Kibum started to open the containers.

“I hope you like Chinese?” Kibum asked, his words coming off more as a statement as he revealed the noodles, white and fried rice, and the sweet and sour chicken. He cracked the wooden chopsticks, pulling them apart before handing them to the model.

Minho smiled as he was given the chopsticks, the smile never leaving his lips as he started to eat the food. He nearly groaned when the sweet taste of the sauce mixed with the warmth of the chicken. He didn’t understand why his father hated takeout so much. Sure, it had a lot of calories and fat, but he knew they would burn it off within one day of their crazy workouts. 

His father would kill him if he knew he was eating it, but that didn’t stop him from eating the last bit of the rice and patting his happy and full stomach. “That was so good… I don’t think that I’ve eaten something that good in forever…” he trailed off as he looked at Kibum who had what had to be the biggest shocked face that Minho had ever seen. “Kibum…?”

The elder’s lips opened and closed slightly before finally some words left passed them, “Holy fuck… Where do you keep it all?” The ebony haired man furrow his eyebrows as he looked at the model.

“Uh….” Minho looked down at the containers and felt his face heat up when he saw that Kibum’s chopsticks—that were still connected to one another, were still in his hands. He nearly jumped up when he felt the sharp pain on his side and swatted the elder’s hand away. “Ow! Don’t pinch me!”

“That is crazy… You have no fat on your body and yet you eat like a pig…” Kibum grumbled and Minho was even sure he had heard him whine _unfair_ under his breath. “And you aren’t afraid to dig into a fatty meal like all the other models I have met… They usually just eat like grapes or something more healthily…”

Minho swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as he began to panic. Did he already blow his cover? He hadn’t even thought about eating habits and he was sure that Jonghyun hadn’t thought about it either. _Fuck_ , he cursed in his mind. There was no way that he could explain about what had just happened and there was no way that he was going to be eating celery sticks and grapes for four whole months.

“Ahh… well…” he grimaced as he glanced at Kibum worriedly. “I’m not like that at all… I love food actually… A lot... But I work out a lot and that… ugh… you know… Keeps the fat off…” He wanted to slap himself from how awkward his words had come out, but stopped when seeing the smile that lit across Kibum’s face. Minho froze for a moment, nearly blinded by the dazzling smile. He quickly shook his head to rid the thoughts before glancing at the older once again.

The smile never left Kibum’s lips as he glanced down at the unused chopsticks in his hand. “To be honest, I wasn’t expecting that at all, but that definitely made everything more interesting.” Kibum cleared his throat when noticing the other staring at him a bit confused. “It’s just that most models I meet are stricter about their diet and hate anything more than a handful. I thought you were the _perfect_ model because of your height and looks. You’re the ideal model for the ideal male, but now I am seeing that isn’t true… and I like that.”

●

Minho turned the sunblock in his hand, smiling widely since the weekend with Kibum popped back into his mind. He could hardly believe how much fun he had with the college student. It really wasn’t what he had expected.

“Alright!” Jonghyun exclaimed as he jumped onto the bed next to the taller, the springs causing them both to bounce slightly. “Tell me everything that happened! He didn’t find out right? I mean, you spent all that time over there so you must have been fine. What happened while you were in there and why the fuck are you holding sunscreen?”

Minho’s lips curved upward, unable to keep the smile off his lips as he tried to look at his best friend seriously. “It was… amazing! Jonghyun it was the greatest weekend ever! You should have seen the designs he has planned and — and he was so funny. Like I thought he would have been strict at first but he wasn’t,” he continued on, his eyes shining with excitement. “And so after he saw my awful tan — which I played it off by saying I play soccer in my spare time — he gave me this and told me to wear sunscreen from now on and that if it doesn’t get better that I will have to get a spray tan so I am even all over and oh god. He was really playful, Jonghyun. He loved teasing me over things like when he asked me to strip or when he teased me for staring at him while he took my measurements. He told me not to fall in love with him because this was strictly business and I couldn’t believe the smirk he had on his face. He is so full of himself and loved seeing me speechless. I think you two would be the best of friends if you met him. Oh! And I forgot to bring a sleeping bag so we had to—”

His blabbering was cut short as the knock on the door reached their ears. Both of them glanced over to see Mrs. Kim by the door giving them a stern look. “Time for bed, boys. You two have school tomorrow. You need to wake up early. I don’t want to hear chitchat coming from in here, got it?”

Both boys groaned in protest before crawling up the queen sized bed and moving the blankets. They both slipped under their separate blankets and instantly turned toward each other once Jonghyun’s mother left the room. 

“She’s gotten _way_ stricter,” Minho mumbled softly.

“I think she needs to get laid.” Only a few inches separated them and Minho was ready to pinch him when Jonghyun quickly started to whisper to him, “But, are you serious? So everything went as planned?” The brunette grinned happily before chuckling softly. “So… you like him?” A smirk that rivaled Kibum’s stretched across his face as he started to tease the taller.

“Shut up,” Minho grumbled as he whispered back to him and pinched his side. “I don’t like him. I just met him, you Dinoface. Unlike you, I actually get to know people before chasing after them.”

“Ha,” Jonghyun exclaimed, his voice only reaching a note higher than the normal whispering as he poked Minho’s cheek to tease him more. “So you are going after him. I think you got to know him plenty well~” 

Jonghyun winked at him teasingly and Minho quickly tried to whack the older — who thanks to soccer reacted quicker than the taller wished as he dodged his hand.

_Smack!_

The noise echoed in the near silent room and Minho slapped a hand over his mouth as he busted out into a fit of laughter, trying to muffle the noises. His eyes watered as he kept laughing, his stomach cramping in pain. “Oh my god… D-did you just r-really hit your head?”

“Shut up!” Jonghyun winced in pain before laughing with the taller.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

“Hey! I thought I told you two to go to bed!” Jonghyun’s mother’s voice reached through the walls and Minho and Jonghyun quickly tried to control their laughter.

The loud, booming laughter quickly died down to contagious chuckles and giggles as they leaned closer once again.

“Dumbass,” Minho chuckled.

“Stupid,” Jonghyun retorted with a snicker of his own.

“At least I wasn’t stupid enough to hit my head against the wall.”

“At least I didn’t fall in love with a pretty _man_ ~”

Minho swiftly kicked his side, the shorter man sliding off the bed with ease as he smacked the floor hard. The taller tilted his head back as he let out a loud laugh, unable to stop it even with the continuous bangs on the wall.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew that one little white lie--something so small could get bigger and bigger to the point of where you are living a complete lie? Minho didn't.

**M** inho could hardly believe how much time had passed by already. How had a month flown by without him even noticing? Between school, playing soccer, and spending weekends with Kibum, time had flown by so quick for anything seemingly significant to occur and yet so much had happened in between it all. 

He felt as though he was on cloud nine, as though he could do anything. He really felt as though he was living the best of two worlds, his real world and his dream one. He found himself constantly checking calendars and staring at the clock in his last class on Fridays, watching the red stick tick away as it passed the twelve on the clock — the lateness of the bell ringing always made him more anxious with each Friday that passed.

This Friday proved to be different however. His father had scheduled an emergency practice meeting and Minho nearly smacked his head against his history book when receiving the lengthy text about needing to practice more. Minho had already begged and lied about his grades dropping in order for his father to let him off the Saturday practices. All had been going well until his father decided he needed more time on the field and Fridays became the perfect day since it was the only weekday that wasn’t already filled with meetings.

Minho placed his hands on his hips as he panted, trying to gain some air back into his lungs. He reached up to wipe the sweat on his forehead, moving his damp bangs that clung to the moist skin. 

His eyes side glanced toward the bench where the small circle on the corner of his phone blinked red. His teeth gnawed at his bottom lip, knowing that Kibum had texted him back (the college student thought that he was still working at the company Sungwoo worked at — something Minho learned a few weeks back when Kibum asked him how it felt to work in an office) and he still couldn’t answer him with the way his father wasn’t giving them a break.

He glanced around at his teammates and could see the tiredness in their eyes. Even their trembling legs were noticeable. “Coach!” he quickly yelled toward his father. “We need to take a break. We won’t last much longer.”

His father rolled his eyes, but gave a firm nod.

All the players groaned and Minho wasn’t sure if it was a thankful groan or full of despair, but the taller didn’t mind as he quickly walked back to the bench to open his phone to see the text message.

**FROM KIBUM**  
_really? tell your boss that your mine and i have it in writing and to get his own fucking contract then… im bored here_

**TO KIBUM**  
_LOL I can’t. He will chew me out. I’ll be there soon. You need to be patient. Many people want me. You being bored isn’t the end of the world._

**FROM KIBUM**  
_it’s the end of the world_

**FROM KIBUM**  
_it really is… so get your ass over here_

**FROM KIBUM**  
_or else you wont get dinner_

**FROM KIBUM**  
_and no one wants you_

**FROM KIBUM**  
_so stop making me wait_

**FROM KIBUM**  
_dick_

Minho chuckled silently to himself as a swarm of text messages came to his phone. He grinned at his phone, a bit stupidly if he had to admit, but Kibum was too funny for his own good. His fingers moved quickly over the touch screen keyboard before pausing when feeling a hand on his shoulder. He glanced over, the smile never leaving his lips as he looked at Jonghyun, who even though looked like he was going through hell, still looked as happy as ever.

“Kibum texting you?” Jonghyun asked as though it was obvious and Minho could only nod.

“Yeah. He’s a little mad since I have to go late to the studio, but I can’t make my dad suspicious or else all hell will break loose.”

“I understand, but practice is going to end soon anyways with how they are,” he pointed behind him and the taller looked over, noting that all their teammates were lying on the grass either half asleep or dead. Though Minho wouldn’t be surprised if it was the later.

“True.”

●

Minho ran as though his life depended on it until he reached the art building and slowed his steps in order to regain his breath as he started to fix his clothes, making sure that his blazer was settled perfectly on his shoulders and his button down shirt was neatly tucked into his gray pants. It was really the only suit he owned and since he was ‘working late’, he thought it might look better if he wore it for Kibum to make it more real.

Instead of hesitating like he did weeks ago when he had first met the man, Minho walked straight into the studio placing his bag down as he started to apologize, “Sorry it took so long, but I quickly went home and grabbed everything I needed. I didn’t even change out of my work clothes for… you…” he mumbled the last part as he pressed his lips together to form a small smile when seeing the older leaning against the wall asleep. His eyes travelled down from the peaceful look on the elder’s face until he noticed the covered containers and chopsticks. Kibum had waited for him. 

He knelt down next to the older and chuckled as he reached out to pinch his side. “Wakie wakie, Kibum~” he sang under his breath.

Kibum’s body flinched as soon as Minho’s fingers came in contact with his side, his eyes opening within a second before his hand grabbed onto the model’s shoulder as he tried to push him away. “Don’t touch me there!”

Minho laughed at the other and grabbed the wrist of the hand that lay on his shoulder. “Then next time don’t fall asleep, Kibum!”

Kibum just rolled his eyes and yanked his hand back as his eyes travelled up and down what the other was wearing; not even hiding the fact that he was checking him out. “What are you wearing…?”

“My suit…” Minho stated as he looked down at the clothes he had put on for extra measures. He found himself suddenly feeling self-conscious. What if Kibum thought his outfit was childish? What if all the movies he had seen of business men lied and they didn’t actually wear suits in reality?

“That’s not a suit.”

The deadpanned reply had Minho’s head snapping up to look at the man. “W-What? This is a suit.”

Kibum quickly shook his head. “The jacket and the dress pants aren’t the same color. It’s not a suit.”

Minho furrowed his eyebrows as he looked down at his clothes, comparing the two articles of clothing. “It’s not even a shade different. Maybe just like a tint, but that’s hardly recognizable.”

“Ugh. Am going to have to teach you about coloring and styles of clothing? Hm. I am. That way you aren’t one of those models who just say ‘Sure, I’ll put that on’, but could actually give an opinion. We’re going to have a _lot_ of studying to do.”

Minho stared at him in disbelief, his jaw practically touching the floor. “W-What?! Kibum,” he groaned, knowing it was no use to actually say no to the man since he had a way of getting what he wanted. Normal Kibum was already enough to make him agree, but _cutesy_ Kibum was something that he never wanted to encounter again. “Fine, just feed me now.”

“Good boy,” Kibum snickered to himself as he handed the taller man a set of chopsticks before opening the containers.

The model’s eyes enlarged greatly at the sight of the mouthwatering food. The only thing that crossed his mind as odd was the fact that unlike the takeout boxes these were actual containers. “Did you make this…?” he asked curiously as he glanced over at the male.

Kibum rolled his eyes as he picked up one of the spring rolls he had made and shoved it into Minho’s mouth to shut him up. “I thought I should stuff you with something else rather than takeout all the time,” the words rolled off his tongue quickly yet to the brunette it seemed natural.

Minho chewed on the food, letting out a content sound. “Wow! Kibum this is so good!” He exclaimed happily, instantly grabbing another one. “This is so much better than takeout. Maybe you should have become a chef instead.” He chuckled warmly before glancing at the older. His eyes widened once again when the dazzling smile had returned to the elder’s lips. He felt momentarily mesmerized as Kibum seemed to look down almost shyly. Had Minho’s mind began to play tricks on him?

Kibum let out a soft chuckle as he played with the food with his chopsticks for a moment. “Thank you…” The smile stayed on his lips as his eyes seemed to shine brightly.

“A-Ah…” Minho bit his lip slightly, unsure with what to say when Kibum was being so… _that_. Kibum would sometimes get into this mood of — Minho didn’t know how to describe it, but he had no idea how to handle it at all. “You’re welcome.”

Kibum shrugged his shoulder lightly and just grinned at the taller. “Let’s just finish eating so we can get straight to business, hm?”

●

Minho scrunched his nose slightly as Kibum fixed the (tenth) shirt he had on which was pointless if you had asked Minho since he couldn’t keep his own hands still. The fabric was just so itchy that he had to scratch his skin beneath it – which earned his hand a hard whack as Kibum cursed under his breath about having to fix the shirt over and over again. “This one is uncomfortable…” he groaned as he stood still, his fingers twitching with the need to scratch his seemingly burning skin.

“That’s why I made these. We need to test out the fabrics on you and now we know that acrilan is a material we cannot use. Though, you look very handsome in it.” Kibum’s lips were curved downward slightly and Minho swore that the itchiness almost willed itself away in order to make the older man happy. “Take it off. Let’s try wool.”

With just a quick, _whoosh_ , the shirt was off in a second and the taller was already scratching his itchy torso. “Ugh… It feels so much better already,” he groaned softly before the grunted noise became louder as the older man already had the next shirt for him in hand.

Kibum’s long fingers brushed against the skin of his torso causing Minho’s breath to hitch in the process at the coolness of them. Kibum mumbled a half assed apology under his breath, his eyes focusing on where he touched. His fingers slowly brushed against the taller male’s chest, the touch seeming seconds too long to be considered innocent were it not for the fact that the older was literally slipping the shirt onto him.

The sudden tug of Kibum fixing the hem of his shirt brought Minho stumbling back into reality. He staggered forward at the, surprisingly, hard yank and nearly collided into the raven haired man. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he caught Kibum’s eyes. His body stiffened at how close they were, their frames nearly pressed against one another as they gazed at each other. Being this close to Kibum, Minho noticed things that he had never noticed about the other before nor could if he was even a fraction away from him. Like the freckles—yes Kim Kibum had freckles but they were hardly noticeable. They were only a slight discoloration compared to the rest of his skin and Minho found himself wanting to reach out and touch the discolored skin to actually make sure it was real. 

It wasn’t until he actually felt the soft skin beneath the pad of his fingers that he realized he was caressing Kibum’s cheek. “Ahh!” He quickly took a step back and bit his bottom lip. He watched as the older opened his eyes and something flashed within them that had Minho worried and scared that he had done something wrong. “I am so sorry, Kibum. I just… Well…” He scratched his own cheek lightly as he tried to think of a way to get himself out of the hole he dug himself into. “Do you know you have freckles?”

“W-what?” Kibum blinked lightly, shaking his head slightly as he chuckled softly. “Of course I know I have freckles, Idiot. Not many people know since it’s hard to see unless they get a good close look.”

“Ahh… Well… I think it suits you,” Minho quickly said as he ran his fingers through his hair, looking at anything other than the older man.

Kibum mumbled a _thank you_ before clearing his throat. “So, wool looks very nice on you. I think it compliments you best.” His fingers brushed against the wool fabric softly and Minho had to stop himself from jolting at the touch. “Take it off and let’s get ready for bed. We have a long day ahead of us since we know the fabrics now. We can plan which fabrics to use for what design and which ones to mix and match tomorrow.”

All Minho could do was nod as he stared at the elder’s fingers that were still on his shirt. “Sure. That sounds great!” He finally got the courage to ignore Kibum’s hand and smiled at him. “I can’t wait.” His lips were curved excitedly as he took a step back. He was so close to his dream. He couldn’t believe it.

●

Minho furrowed his eyebrow as the constant sound of buzzing reached his ears, pulling him out of his sleep. He grunted softly as he moved to roll over to his side only to press against the warmth of another. He opened his eyes, glancing at Kibum who was still asleep, pressed against him firmly.

Minho would swear that he would bring his sleeping bag next time were it not for the fact that he had already said so too many times for him to count.

He stayed in his spot as he gazed at the other male. A small smile reached his lips as he got to see Kibum’s freckles once more. He didn’t mind how close they were right now since the other couldn’t catch him while he was looking at him. 

He brushed his thumb lightly across the slight discolored specks of skin underneath his eyes. He couldn’t stop his smile from widening before another buzz reached his ears. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sound before glancing over to his side and grabbing his phone. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath at the sight of twenty three new messages.

**FROM DINOFACE**  
_Minho! You need to get down here! Your father is yelling like there is no tomorrow._

**FROM DINOFACE**  
_I swear there is steam coming out of his ears._

**FROM FATHER**  
_Answer your phone. NOW._

**FROM DINOFACE**  
_He’s really mad and he’s trying to get a hold of you, Minho._

**FROM FATHER**  
_You better get down to the field before I go looking for you._

**FROM DINOFACE**  
_MINHO ANSWER ME_

**FROM FATHER**  
_If you don’t get here in an hour, you are not going to take a foot off this field until you can’t move._

**FROM DINOFACE**  
_ANSWER_

**FROM DINOFACE**  
_ME_

**FROM DINOFACE**  
_GET DOEN HERE MINHO_

Minho winced at all the messages and quickly sat up. _How the fuck am I supposed to get to the field in_ , he checked the time of the message, _thirty fucking minutes when I am two hours away? ___

__He slowly slipped out from the sleeping bag, not wanting to wake Kibum up before quickly changing into his normal clothes. He cursed repeatedly as he tried to scramble, nearly wearing his shirt inside out. “Crap… Kibum,” he glanced over at the sleeping man, panicking as he tossed onto the spot Minho has just been lying on. He had no idea what he was going to do._ _

__In the midst of panicking, he quickly grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled on it before heading out._ _

_Sorry, Kibum._

_My boss is having an emergency meeting. I won’t be back until later and I’ll make it up to you. I promise!_

●

Minho felt as though his legs were burning with each stride he took. He could feel the beats of sweat rolling down the back of his neck, damping his shirt as he ran through the school to the field. He had no idea if his father would still even be there, but he prayed he was.

As soon as he reached the grassy field, Minho’s father had already blown the whistle, motioning his teammates that practice was over. Minho groaned as he slowly came to a jog before stopping. He placed his hands on his knees as he hunched over slightly, panting as he tried to regain his breath.

He flinched lightly at the pat to his back before glancing over to see Jonghyun with a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t get you out of this, Frog Eyes. I’ll wait for you in the locker rooms, okay?”

“D-Don’t worry about,” Minho panted out as he stood up straight and smiled down at his closest friend. “You wouldn’t have been able to do anything anyways. Once my father has his mind set on me playing or practicing, it’s really hard to distract him from even the thought of it.” He patted the older one back before starting to walk over to his father. “See you in there soon. Wish me luck and that he doesn’t kill me.”

“I’ll pray.”

Minho just chuckled softly at those words before his large eyes glanced over at his father. The older man’s cold stare sent shivers down his spine and caused the hair on his arms to rise. He had only seen that look on his father twice in life—and he remembered those arguments like they had just happened the day prior. “Coach,” he said, his voice coming out softer than he had ever wished for. He knew better than to call him father on the field. “I’m really sorry for being late. I had woken up early and I went to my tutor and I was so focused on the lesson that I didn’t see the messages,” he lied through his teeth and Minho prayed it seemed believable. 

“Choi Minho,” the man’s voice was firm and Minho could just feel the anger through the tone of his name hitting him like a thousand daggers. “You think I would believe that?”

Minho’s eyes widened as he stared at his father in shock. His lips trembled softly as he tried to say something, anything. Had he been figured out already?

“You think I would believe that you didn’t look at your phone when I saw that friend of yours using his nonstop when he got the chance? Jonghyun is strict about practice. He never takes out his phone, but he knew I was angry at you, didn’t he? Answer me!” 

“Y-Yes. He knew you were—but father—coach, I-” Minho sputtered nonsense as he took a step back from the raging man.

“Give me your phone.” Minho’s father kept the firm look, his eyes only seeming to get colder as he held his hand out for the device.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket, his fingers clenching onto it tightly. He couldn’t hand it over to him. “B-But dad… I really didn’t see them! You have to believe me!”

“Give me your phone, Son,” he snarled before ripping the phone out his son’s hand. His fingers skimmed over the touch screen as he started to read aloud. “ _Fuck. I’ll be there in a few hours. Try to stall for me…_ ” His father glanced over him. His eyes were hard and almost seemed as if they were piercing through him. “You wrote that three hours ago.”

Minho’s lips parted to let out a protest, but his father’s held up hand stopped him from doing so.

“No more of this, Minho. How dare you lie to my face; I’m not only your coach but your father. That is disrespectful and I am not going to take that from you. From now on you will be going to every practice.”

“What?! That isn’t fair! My grades are important!” He tried to convince his father and felt himself spiraling into despair as his father only gave him a cold look, his eyes unwavering. Minho’s throat clenched and it became harder to breathe as his father had the final word before turning on his heels and telling him to go home. He couldn’t let it go on like this and reached out, grabbing his father’s arm, looking at him with misty eyes. He couldn’t stop the tears as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Please father… This means a lot to me… I can’t skip these lessons. They mean everything to me! I-I need them!” _Please… I just need this one moment… And then I’ll play soccer. Just one chance to get a taste of my dream…_

His fingers tightened their grip on the material of his father’s shirt as he stared at his father hopefully.

“No. Go home with Jonghyun. Your mother wants you to come home for dinner one night during the weekends,” he peeled the younger’s fingers off of his shirt before heading back to his office. “And every time I message you for practices… you better answer within 30 minutes or else I will personally go to the Kim’s and drag your ass back home. And you will not be allowed over their house during the weekends ever again. That is all.”

Minho’s teeth gnawed at his bottom lip as he watched his father’s back as he walked away from him. He reached up to wipe the tears that fell while moving to walk to the locker room. It felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest. His dream would never come true. It was all over.

What was he going to do now?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :]


End file.
